Fragile Hearts

OUTBACK UNION

Sighing, she bent down and placed a single red rose on the grave.  Stiffly; she rose and wiped a tear away from her eye.  There were a few others milling about the graveyard but not with the same amount of sadness as she held in her fragile heart.  Hugging herself she stepped backwards a pace and let the tears silently fall down her cheeks.  Why, she asked herself.  Why?  There was no clear answer as to that.  Burning sunshine may have been beating down but it was a thunderstorm rolling around inside her.

Quickly she turned around at the sound of leaves crunching underfoot.  Roughly wiping away her tears, gulping down the rest of her sorrow, as a man entered her field of vision. She hated this man!  Hated him and yet he could never leave her alone!

Squaring her shoulders she prepared herself for another attack.  The man was in his mid-fifties but looked as though he was in his mid-thirties.  Salt and pepper hair cut to a rather fashionable style.  Very sharp suited with black eyes that glinted like obsidian in the Australian sunshine.  Some thought he looked like George Clooney - Tegan could not reply as to whom he reminded her of, who would believe her?

“I am not in the mood!” she exclaimed as she tried to barge past him.  He grabbed her by the arm as he read the name on the gravestone.  “Let go off me!”

“Adric?” he sneered in his almost polished English voice that still held a slight Accent.  “What kind of a name is that?”

The woman glared fiercely into his dark hateful eyes.  “If you must know, he was my little brother!”

The man grinned down at her, how she wished she could get his mitts off her arm.  Wrong day to wear a tight dress.  The man seemed to take pleasure in leering at her.  “When are you going to finally realise that you and I should tie the knot, Tegan?  I could be your most powerful ally in your fight!”

Tegan may have been in her early thirties.  There was also a long way to go to get to where she wanted to be and do in life.  I may be stubborn, she thought, but I would rather fulfill my ambition without this spineless creep!  The man tightened his grip on her arm whispering with malicious intent: “You know YOU owe me a lot!  Without me, Tegan, you’d be DEAD!”

2

The TARDIS shivered.  The Doctor glanced up at Clara as she patted down her hair after a shower and rolled his eyes when she hung the dripping wet towel on the stair rail.  He frowned at what she was wearing: “What?” Clara asked as she twirled around: “Is there something wrong!”

“No, nothing!” the Doctor murmured.  Clara was wearing a purple skirt she found in the extensive wardrobe and a white lacy blouse with puffy short sleeves.  Long dark chestnut hair hung limply down as it was still damp.  “Except … The TARDIS shivered when you put on that skirt!  Why THAT SKIRT?”

“Why?” Clara frowned chewing her lip.  “Because it fits! It’s smart.  Nice lilac colour. It also goes with this blouse,” she started bending down to peer under the units.  “There was a hat the same colour as the skirt,” she sighed impatiently.  The Doctor kicked it further away.  There was a particular reason he did not wish to be reminded of her.  It took his memories towards Adric.  Lucie.  Finally, he stared at the ceiling, The Ponds.  He looked at Clara as she sat down on the metal stairs, “I put it here somewhere,” she mumbled.  “Frustrated. I liked that hat - it was kooky!”